


Fear

by aleope_and_so_on



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24182275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleope_and_so_on/pseuds/aleope_and_so_on
Summary: Arthur asks Merlin a question. Neither of them expect the answer.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I have never posted anything before, and I don't really know what I'm doing. But you know what, I'm having fun doing it and that's what matters.

“What are you afraid of?”

And he can’t help it, the first thing that he thinks of is fire. He sees it in his dreams: brilliant flames in red and hungry gold, a mockery of their supper. He is terrified of the smell of smoke, the flash of heat, because this time he might not escape the stake and those ravenous flames.  
But.  
The fire belongs to Gwaine and Morgana, and he is not afraid of them. The hot-headed knight, so quick to flare up, so quick to settle and lend a helping hand when the path is dark and cold. The passionate girl, before she let the fire consume her, so sure of her way and how right she is, so ready to fight for it.

The next to come to mind is the water. Cool and dark and filling his nose and mouth until he doesn’t resist, until he is nothing more than another drowned spirit at the bottom of a well. He shivers, and opens his mouth.  
But.  
The water belongs to Gwen and Hunith and Freya, and he is not afraid of them. The calm queen, beautiful and easy-going as the rivers, and just as quick to turn when her family is threatened. His mother, the same quiet sorrow as a rainstorm that never fails to leave places looking brighter. 

Earth jumps to his tongue, the massive boulders crashing down on him. He has dreamed of this too, of rough metal shackles bolted into walls of stone. Of eager poisons dancing their way through his blood, of mandrake roots, of being buried alive.  
But.  
The earth belongs to Leon and Elyan and Percival and Lancelot and Gaius, and he is not afraid of them. The mature knight, steadfast as a deep rooted oak, bowing only to those he is certain of. The smith’s son, kind to those he trusts but hard as steel and iron to the rest. The mountain, quiet as stone but far more forgiving. The honorable peasant, quiet and grounding, sharing his burden. And the physician, who is far more than a father to him, wiser than any he knows. 

So he turns to the air. To the feel of a thick rope and wood under his feet, to a release, a catch, and a swing. To falling too far for bones to last on impact, to screams, to breath stolen and never returned.  
But.  
The air belongs to Balinor and Kilgharrah and Aithusa, and he is not afraid of them. The dragons and their lords, free in the sky, chasing clouds and sunsets and ghosts on the back of the wind. And before the air belonged to them it was his, a breath of escape. Everyone knows the sky belongs to the birds, anyway. 

Darkness slips into his mind then, a roiling cloud of it. He is terrified of succumbing to it, of losing sight of his sun. He does not want to be lost in it, to be locked away and forgotten. To be so full of it that he turns his back on the light.  
But.  
The darkness belongs to Freya and Morgana and Gilli, and he is not afraid of them. The druid girl with dark dark hair who tells him she is a monster, who turns into a yellow-eyed beast as black as the night, who loves strawberries and wants to run away. The lost girl, whose fire burnt out, the orphan boy who refuses to be his father and who nearly kills the king. 

No, he is not afraid of them.  
But.  
The question still hangs in front of him.  
“Well?”  
And his treacherous tongue betrays him, spilling truth.  
He sees reflected in blue eyes the flames, the roiling water, the darkness and stolen breath and golden stones. He sees them lifeless, all the ways he cannot stop it. All the ways that destiny claims her own. 

“You.”


End file.
